Assef Remembers
by AWholeFleetOfShips
Summary: What makes a man a monster? This was originally an assignment of mine from ages ago. The purpose of the assignment was to take a part of the original story and expand on it. This is set in chapter 22. I, in no way support Assef or his opinions or beliefs. Warning: Non-descriptive rape


**Assef Remembers**

Searing pain tore through my skull, ripping a path back to memories from years past. When a ghost of a boy, a Hazara, came to me clearly. The ghost aimed a sling at my head, threatening _"If you make a move, they'll have to change your nickname from Assef 'the Ear-Eater' to One-Eyed-Assef', because I have this rock pointed at your left eye."_

"OUT! GET IT OUT" I screamed. But the torment continued unceasingly. Beneath the fire in my skull I felt hands grip my face and shoulders as I thrashed tumultuously. Gasping for breath I felt something warm and slick slip between my fingers.

What little I could still make out through my right eye began to splotch and fade to black only to be replaced slowly by blurs of colour that morphed into shapes. The colours shifted into sharp focus as the pain suddenly flared through my head before clouding to a distant ache and dull memories surfaced through the pain.

Now there was a new pain. Half remembered, half forgotten in time. Strong arms wrapped under my arms pressed firmly against the back of my neck and head, constricting my movements, though I hardly struggled. I couldn't see my captor, but I knew him well, my cousin, Wilhelm.

When I was younger my Mother, Father and I visited relatives of my Mother in Germany for some time. That's how I met Wilhelm. A few months older than me, he was everything I aspired to be: strong, smart and driven. So I followed him like a shadow. That's how I came to be inducted into Wilhelm's elder Brother, Dietrich's underground society of Nazi and Hitler enthusiasts.

That was the moment I recalled through the haze of pain. Wilhelm had already been successfully initiated into the embrace of the order. His first test of loyalty was to hold me down during my initiation. Mine was to endure. I did more than endure. I felt alive with every fresh blow; each stirred an anger from deep inside of me that surfaced with an elated howl. I distinctly remember Dietrich's reaction to my response.

He had been pounding cold metal knuckle-dusters relentlessly into my body. Beneath his quick, heavy breaths I could hear a stream of sound escape his lips. Words. They tumbled out, one on the heel of the other. I focused on the continuous stream that resounded in my mind as a rumbling chant, a prayer. Though my German was slow, I understood every syllable. I knew the depth of his words as though they were already part of myself. I howled in the ecstasy of the revelation.

Deitrich's drumming pace slowed, his chant continued in strength as with a slow motion he raised his head causing drips of sweat to shake loose. Not breaking his litany, his lips had crept up and cracked into a broad grin.

That simple expression was the most honest I had known in my life. It was filled with promise and gave me a deep sense of kinship. Straightening up to his full height, still bearing that brilliant smile, Dietrich ceased his onslaught, then with a firm "Hegel Hitler!" his chant came to a reverent end. It was then that I knew the weight of his name; it meant _Leader of the people_. I could not deny it.

The room came into an expectant hush, from the corners of my bloodied eyes I glimpsed the ring of Aryan youth and men who had eagerly gathered for the rare initiation. They stood to attention, their eyes never wavering from the scene.

As I staggered and shook free of Wilhelm, who now supported me, I felt strong hands clasp my shoulders and looked up into the face of Wilhelm's brother as from deep within his throat he rumbled, "Willkommen Assef, mein Bruder."

With this the room erupted into a canon of sound as the men ringed around us rigidly snapped to attention, clacked their black heels together and proudly saluted with their right arms extended in unison. Their voices shook the ground with three resolute cries of "Sieg Hiel! Sieg Heil! Sieg Heil!" Each greater than the last.

 _The memory began to fade with the drumming chants of the men from my past. Only to be replaced by a drumming against my chest. Dimly, I attempted to open my right eye as only pain met any attempt to open my left and the lid would not budge. Through barely more than a slit I saw flashes of bright light mixed with grey roll by at an alarming speed. Then short beeps rang throughout my ears, raking my skull with periodic blips; BLIP… BLIP… BLIP… BLIP…Until BLI-EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…_

 _The nauseous sound continues. Overlapping the things I begin to remember._

Again a scene blurs into focus, this time everything is dark and grey, but it is not the pain that obscures my vision. In the memory the light is dim. Dank brick walls glisten in slippery shades of green and grey. It's almost impossible to tell the difference. The slimy bricks reflect the light of the half moon, now low in the sky. Morning is closing in.

In front of me Wilhelm's brother struggled with a small figure. The boy thrashed, bit and flailed. But it was in vain. The rest of the Aryan youth surged past me through the mouth of the derelict alley and roughly banded together; forming a crude circle. We were all breathing heavily from having run so far with the panicked boy. Now the others - there were five not including Dietrich, the _Jude_ and myself – despite their exhausted state began to grin, some whistled and thumped the ground with their heavy boots.

But I could hear none of it. The whining beep in my ears drowned out the taunts and jeers that came from leering lips. Instead I could only look on from within myself. As the others became increasingly excited I stood amongst them and observed. Their smiles were wild and sharp, filled with emotion. But only Dietrich's was true. In his smile was confidence; it never wavered, unlike those around us whose lips flickered between anxiety and excitement. Even as the _Jude_ continued to kick and squirm, his honest grin didn't wane.

He looked up and his eyes met mine, it seemed as though his grin grew in the dim light. He whispered in the ear of the _Jude_ who thenappeared to whimper. Lifting his head once again, Dietrich called out to me. Through the beeping that still rang through my ears, I couldn't hear his words. But I remember them well.

" _Sie sind nicht wie wir, Bruder."_ They are not like us, brother.

" _Die Personifikation des Teufels als Sinnbild alles Bösen übernimmt die lebende Form der Jude."_ The personification of the devil as the symbol of all evil assumes the living shape of the Jew; Dietrich's favourite quote from Adolf Hitler's _Mein Kampf._

" _Sie sind der Abschaum der Erde, sie wissen es. Wir werden sie auszurotten."_ They are the scum of the earth, they know it. We will eradicate them.

I believed every word. Hitler was long dead but that meant nothing to Dietrich whose only goal was to finish what was started. It was mine too. I had never known a purer cause, and never would.

Dietrich grinned again, this time down at the _jüdischen Jungen_ who had exhausted himself and now hung limp. My memory again began to warp into another as the excitement of the others increased in intensity while Dietrich leaned over the _Jude_. With unheard laughing and jeering, the vision continued to fade.

Last, I remembered the day Dietrich gave me one of his signature brass knuckles. It was the morning my family were to begin our journey home, to Afghanistan. As a parting gift he had taken me aside and shook my hand firmly. In the fist that he grasped my hand he silently pressed the cold metal into my smaller hand. They were too big for my fingers but he assured me that when I needed them, they would fit.

" _Verwenden Sie sie gut. Denken Sie daran, was ich dir beigebracht."_ Use them well. Remember what I taught you.

My reply was _"Für ihre Mitmenschen."_ For the greater good. It was all that needed to be said. Then silently between us we whispered one last _"Heil Hitler."_ Dietrich smiled that brilliant smile. That was the last I remember of him.

Finally my memory flashed one last time. The memory was distorted and skipped in my mind. A harelipped Hazara. No, it was a painted Hazara. A ghost. A doll. One threatened me with a sling, the other pleaded. In the end it didn't matter. The painted Hazara or maybe it was the hare-lipped ghost, fired the shot. It pierced right through my left eye, just like the boy said it would. The pain closed my eyes and I smiled no more.


End file.
